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"It's an ill wind that blows nobody good," thought the carpenter, turning his attention to the child, whose feeble struggles and cries proclaimed that, as yet, life had not been extinguished by the hardships it had undergone. Grasping it firmly with both hands, he quickly wrenched if from the stones in which it was mortised, and leapt to the ground. ’ ‘What name would you like, then?’ Her shadowed features turned in his direction. ‘And I trust you will pardon my inadequacies. She had now the clear and tranquil expression of one whose mind is made up.
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